


Sanctuary

by aerialsky



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s04e18-19 The Killing Game, F/F, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Killing Game AU, Pregnancy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialsky/pseuds/aerialsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katrine and Brigitte's relationship is their sanctuary amidst the horrors of the war raging outside.<br/>Please note: there is a mention of rape in this story.  It is not graphically described, but it is relevant to the overall plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Kissing Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/884260) by [Zenece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenece/pseuds/Zenece). 



Brigitte walked swiftly across the town square, away from the Nazi headquarters.  She was a picture of grim determination, fighting to keep her features neutral and hold back tears that were stinging in the corners of her eyes.  She wanted to break out into a run; she wanted to lash out but drew her hands into tight fists and crossed her arms as she walked stiffly to Le Coeur de Lion, her sanctuary. 

Upon entering the bar, she made a cursory sweep of the room, checking for unexpected and unwelcome guests: German officers enjoying an early afternoon drink.  It was early enough in the day for the room to be empty save for Katrine sitting at a corner table, diligently poring over papers, telegrams and maps.  Hearing the door close quietly, she looked up to see her lover walk in, check the room with some agitation and break down in tears.  Katrine gathered up all her papers, tucked them safely in a hidden wall compartment and rushed over to the distraught woman to take her into her arms and guide her away from the window and potential prying eyes. 

“Brigitte, darling, I’m here.  You’re safe now,”  she soothed, taking Brigitte into a tight hug, stroking her hair. 

“I don’t know… how much more of this… I can take,”  Brigitte managed to get out between sobs, before burying her head in Katrine’s chest and clinging on to her as if her life depended on it. 

Katrine slowly guided her to the back room where they had a makeshift bed, small gas stove and a tin bath.  The two women sat down together.  Katrine drew Brigitte’s hands into her lap and put her arm tightly around her shoulders.  She waited for Brigitte to speak. 

“He wanted to fuck me again,” Brigitte finally spat out in disgust.  “He called it making love, but… he took me into his office and told me to get on his desk…” Brigitte choked up and her body tensed, recoiling in the memory.  “He kept talking about my strong body and how proud he will be of our child…  It took all my effort not to scream, punch him, scratch his eyes out but I had to just lie back and acquiesce to his every want, his every touch.  Oh God, I feel sick.” 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Katrine repeated as she placed small kisses across Brigitte’s forehead.  She knelt down in front of Brigitte, looking up into her eyes with love and tenderness.  “We can find another way, you don’t have to do this anymore.”  Katrine’s voice broke with emotion and she gripped Brigitte’s hands even tighter.

“There is no other way, is there, though?”  Brigitte responded quietly.

“We’ll think of something, we’ll find another source of information… anything but this.”

“The Americans are coming; they need our intelligence.  I got what we needed today.  We can relay another set of codebreakers to the Allies in the morning.  I’ve just got to focus on that goal.”

“It breaks my heart to see you have to go through this.  But, if you think you can continue, I’ll be here for you, waiting for you every time you get back from that hell hole.”  Katrine reached up and cupped Brigitte’s cheek before rising to kiss her gently and tenderly on the lips.  She rested her forehead against Brigitte’s and sighed.  “I wish I could offer you more than this camp bed, more than this…” She gestured at the small, dingy room.  “You deserve so much better than this.  I can’t offer you the home, comforts, safety that you should have in your condition, but I can give you my heart, my love, and my promise that when this is all over, we’ll get as far away from here as possible and start afresh, the three of us.” 

“I don’t need anything else,”  Brigitte whispered, her voice thick with emotion.  “I can do it knowing you’re here.  I love you, Katrine.”  She leant over and kissed her, slowly, conveying her love, trust and need.  They broke apart and looked into each other’s eyes, finding the depth of emotion they both sought there.  Katrine slowly rose and put a pan of water to heat up on the stove.  She found a clean washcloth and towels, folded them and laid them neatly on the chair next to the small tin bath.  She worked quickly and precisely, indicating that this had become a ritual, a tradition that healed them both in times of dark need.  She brought the bath closer to the bed.  The water began to bubble and rumble in the pan.  She took it and filled the bath with the steaming hot water.  She then took a clay pitcher of cold water and set about obtaining the right temperature: lukewarm, body temperature.  She took a small sliver of perfumed soap that she’d managed to barter some stockings for and dipped it into the water, turning it in her graceful hands to release its lavender scent.  She took the washcloth, ran it through the water and wrung it out. 

“Are you ready?” She knelt before Brigitte and asked quietly, patiently. 

Brigitte closed her eyes and replied with a small nod and the barest “Mmhmm”.

Katrine slowly and carefully began to wash Brigitte’s face.  She gently cleaned her forehead and placed kisses on the fresh, damp skin.  She ran the cloth lightly over closed eyelids, tenderly, before replacing the cloth with her lips.  She followed every line and curve of Brigitte’s face, gently washing away the events of the day.  She tucked her dark hair behind her ear to softly trace the intricate contours of Brigitte’s ear, whispering “I’m here for you” in the left and “You are loved” in the right.

She returned to the bath to gather more warm water.  She looked up to see Brigitte had opened her eyes; some of the agitation from earlier had dissipated and a faint smile graced her lips.  Katrine smiled back, wrung out the cloth and hung it over the edge of the bath.  She couldn’t resist taking Brigitte’s face lightly in her hands just to look deeply into her eyes.  Brigitte’s trust for her despite everything she had gone through astounded her and she felt it most deeply in these all-too-brief moments they could steal on quiet afternoons when they were free to be themselves: not the lover of a Nazi officer, or the bar keeper fawning over enemy soldiers as wine flowed and shots rang out. 

Without breaking eye contact, thus checking for any sign she should stop, Katrine ran her hands down Brigitte’s neck and slipped fingers lightly under her collar.  She caressed the soft skin at the base of her neck and brushed the length of a strong collarbone that jut out way more than it probably should.  Slowly, she started to unbutton Brigitte’s shirt before slipping it off her shoulders, folding it and putting it to one side.  Carefully, she removed Brigitte’s bra, her delicate fingers working the clasp at the back and gently tugging it over raised arms before neatly stowing it alongside the shirt.  The war had left Brigitte slimmer than she had been, despite the fact that everyone was divvying up their rations to give her extra because of the baby.  She had been blessed with a naturally strong body and good health, which helped, but Katrine worried nonetheless, often forsaking her own meals to give to Brigitte and their baby. 

She took up the washcloth again and returned to the bed.  She climbed up to kneel behind Brigitte, affording her easier access to her shoulders.  She washed in broad strokes, slowing in places to apply gentle pressure, easing the tense muscles underneath.  She devoted all her attention to Brigitte’s back, enjoying the feel of the smooth muscles there as she passed the cloth across the expanse of skin.  She took one of Brigitte’s arms into her hands and massaged tension away as she cleaned it, then repeated the procedure with her other arm.  Satisfied that that part of her work was done, she brushed Brigitte’s hair away from her neck and placed a kiss at the top of her spine.  Doing so, she scooted forward to embrace Brigitte from behind, lending support to her lover, who was beginning to melt under her touches.  Brigitte leaned her head back into the hollow of Katrine’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth radiating from Katrine’s body against the cool skin of her back. 

“I need this,” she murmured into Katrine’s ear, and breathed deeply to take in the scent of her skin.  Katrine had sparingly dabbed some perfume behind her ears; she applied it especially for their times together: what had once seemed so normal pre-war was now a luxury, a rare treat.  It wasn’t much but this small room tucked at the back of Le Coeur de Lion was their inner sanctum. So much of their time and energy was consumed by the Resistance, but Katrine did her best to preserve what small space and time they had for their little family away from the conflicts raging outside.  She hoped the perfume did something to take Brigitte away from the horrors of the war and all it entailed.

Katrine placed her hands on Brigitte’s rounded belly and stroked in soothing circles.  “I need you two too.” 

Brigitte smiled, feeling a deep sense of comfort from Katrine’s words and touch.  She looked down at the delicate hands that caressed her so lovingly and the thin arms that held her in a solid embrace and marveled at how such small, elegant arms could provide her with the protection she needed, how those fine fingers concealed their strength.  Katrine slowed her caress and extricated herself from the heavenly embrace to reach for the washcloth.  “Let’s finish up before the water goes completely cold.” 

Returning to where Brigitte sat, she began to wash the front of her body.  She started once again with long strokes that went collarbone to collarbone before softly taking Brigitte’s breasts one by one into her hand, running the cloth along the outer edges, underneath, and across her nipples that pebbled both from the chill of the air and her attention.  Katrine nudged Brigitte back onto the bed slightly and knelt between her knees.  She ran the cloth over Brigitte’s stomach and leaned down to kiss her rounded form.  Her devotion to their child was complete, and there was no doubt in her mind that it was, in fact, theirs.  Not just Brigitte’s and most of all, not some shame of war to be borne alone.  As far as she saw it, it was a gift.  Somehow the darkest of all experiences in her life had bestowed her with pure light itself: a child with the woman she loved more than anyone or anything in the universe. 

Katrine undid the button of Brigitte’s skirt and removed it along with her stockings and briefs.  She guided her back onto the bed.  She took Brigitte’s feet into her hands, massaging away the strain her pregnancy put on them.  She paid loving attention to her ankles and calf muscles, noting the knots and stress she found there, soothing them away with the motion of her adept fingers.  Her eyes found Brigitte’s and her gaze, full of love and trust, went some way to melt away her concern.  Brigitte smiled and parted her legs slightly.  As was their tradition, Katrine took the washcloth and gently followed the intricate folds there, removing the very last traces of what had passed earlier that day.

She stood and began to remove her clothing as Brigitte watched her.  She dropped her shirt and skirt to the floor and made short work of her underwear and stockings before joining Brigitte on the bed.  The feel of their skin on skin as the entire length of their bodies brushed against each other was a balm: a source of relief that they’d made it another day. 

“I love you so much, Brigitte.” Katrine felt tears prick at her eyes and she tightened her embrace.  Brigitte pulled her closer and the two women clung to each other, legs entwined, Katrine’s faced pressed into Brigitte’s neck.  Protector became protectee became protector: their roles alternating as they navigated the harsh realities of the outside world and sought refuge in their love behind closed doors. 


End file.
